


Mr And Mr Gallagher-Milkovich.

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: AU's FOR YOU [9]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Fight Sex, Fights, Film AU, M/M, Mr and Mrs Smith AU, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:37:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happily married for five-or-six-years, Ian and Mickey really should of done background checks on each-other. Ian and Mickey are both Assassins for competing agencies, and they both get assigned to kill each-other. The end result is better than expected. </p><p>Mr And Mrs Smith AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr And Mr Gallagher-Milkovich.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I watched this film last night and I couldn't help picturing Ian and Mickey as these two, like COME ON? So I did this scene, as its probably my favourite - but I wasn't sure whether to carry it on or something? I don't know. Tell me what you think.

“Mickey, we really should talk about this!” Ian yelled, ducking as a knife darted past his head.

Mickey's hiding behind the wall, yelling back in rage. “You fucking shot me!"

Ian crouches by the door, trying to load his gun back up. “It was an accident, I already told you that!” He winces as his gun clicks, hissing through his teeth when his bloodied arm brushes against the frame of the door.

“Bullshit, Gallagher!” Mickey seethed, clicking his own gun into place. “You hit me with your car!”

Ian finally pops up from the door, scowling at his husband. “Excuse _me,_ you tried to put fucking bleach into my cocktail, _and_ it's not like you were any more truthful about your job than me!”

Mickey growls, clenching his teeth together, bringing his gun up. Ian dives to the side, dodging the line of bullets that followed his movements, spraying across the living room wall.

“You know, I'm starting to think you're trying to kill me.” Ian coughs out, offhandedly, before stepping up. A vase beside him, that he fucking _paid_ for smashed next to his head, he yelps ducking low before bringing his own weapon up and beginning to fire.

The living room was destroyed, nothing but holes in the walls left from it's perfected décor. Neither of them had actually laid hands on eachother yet – It wasn't that bad, Ian might had even thought that this was sexy, that seeing Mickey all fired up and fiery made his pants tight.

But then the wall next to his head exploded out, Mickey's shotgun shooting through the wall as Ian ran past it.

Ian couldn't have guessed when he had woken up that morning that this would be how the day would end. That he'd come back from his job to find out that the other spy, that he had been trained to kill, was his _own_ husband. Mickey. To find out that they were on separate sides, different teams, and brainwashed into killing each-other.

That day he had to realise that they were supposed to kill each-other not love each-other.

Ian follows Mickey's light footsteps into the kitchen, shooting at the fridge as Mickey swings it open to protect himself. Fruit, greens and all sorts fired out, splatting against the floor ruining the home that they had created together. Ian keeps shooting, and Mickey ducks behind the counter. He pulls out the drawer, and pulls out a butchers knife, chucking it into Ian's direction.

The knife stops just at the door frame, skimming Ian's face, he turns away from the door, shielding himself behind the wall in a wait for Mickey to move.

Mickey puts his hand up into the open oven, pulling out the gas cable and puts it onto the counter top. Ian runs in, firing his gun in all places, grit in his teeth from all the strength he still had left. Then he hears the gas and the whole kitchen explodes outwards, metal flying towards him as he slammed to the rumble-covered floor.

Ian searches for his gun, but suddenly Mickey runs out of the fire sending a swift knee to Ian's face, reeling him back into a gasp. Ian growled, and gripped to Mickey's legs, sweeping him under his feet and sending him crashing to the floor.

They both jump up, Mickey charging towards Ian, his elbow flying into the wall as the redhead ducked from his blow. Ian comes back with a sharp hit into Mickey's back, sending him forward a little without room to breathe. Ian grips to his shirt pulling him towards a table full of glass and shoves him against it, cutting his skin. He then turns, grabbing a glass vase and hits it against Mickey's shielding arms, but he loses his grip.

Mickey grips to his neck, sending him crashing into the wall, head going through it, before pulling him the other way and hitting his back against the glass mirror. Ian tries to regain his balance, but instead allows Mickey to lead him into the dining area, his whole body flying across the table set and onto the floor.

“Come on, Ian. Come to daddy.” Mickey teases, standing behind him.

Ian grips to a sheet, and a metal tin, before turning and hitting Mickey across the face with it. He wraps the sheet around his neck, head butting him, and kicks his chest into the glass cabinet behind him. Ian smirks, blowing him a playful kiss. “Who's your daddy now, huh?” Ian runs out of the room.

Mickey immediately follows, lunging for Ian as the redhead ran for his gun against the floor. He kicks at the weapon, sending it under the chair, and floors Ian to the ground. Mickey straddles his hips, delivering hard jabs to Ian's face. Ian gasped before reaching up and wrapping his hands around Mickey's neck, pulling him down and firmly keeping the hold.

Somehow Mickey managed to free himself from Ian, rolling to his feet, Ian still clinging to him in order to knock him out. Mickey grips to Ian's thighs, lifting him up and ramming him into the nearby wall, knocking the breath out of Ian's lungs. Then he pulls back, before ramming him straight back into it again.

Ian recovered quickly, a little dazed but still determined, he tackles Mickey down to the ground, throwing in instant right hooks to his face. Ian laughed through his bloody mouth, before he squealed as Mickey flipped them back over, but Ian got the first hand in and kicked him from underneath, sending him backwards.

Then he saw the shotgun in the corner of his eye, a few feet away. Mickey sees it too. They both lung for it, Ian grabbing it a second before Mickey did. Mickey kicks it out of his hands, sending it away again, before Ian growled and stood up to run over to the corner where he saw Mickey's handgun lying.

“Fuck.” Mickey muttered, scrambling to get the shotgun, grabbing it and standing up in position. He swung around, ready to shoot, and saw Ian standing in front of him, with his handgun aimed at his head, Mickey's shotgun pressed into his chest.

Both of them paused, heaving as they tried to catch their breaths, and Ian could feel his own hands shaking under his gun.

“So, what's it going to be, Gallagher?” Mickey whispered, expression blank causing a shock to shoot up Ian's spine. He hated that look. He hated the fact that he couldn't read Mickey, that Mickey wasn't himself – well, maybe he was. They didn't really know each-other afterall.

Ian swallowed, tightening his grip against his gun, finger brushing over the trigger. Mickey's jaw clenched, eyes dancing from Ian's and down to the gun.

“Do it.” Mickey taunted, coldly. “Just fucking do it, Ian, shoot me.”

“I will.” Ian tried to convince himself, forcefully, pressing his gun closer to Mickey, heart pounding furiously in his chest. If he was seeing things clearly, he might had seen tears pooling in Mickey's eyes.

“Then fucking do it!” Mickey yelled, voice a little croaked.

Ian wiped his nose against his shirt, shaking his head a little. Despite everything that had happened, he felt his hands resisting, he couldn't do it. He looked over to Mickey, and he couldn't keep his eyes off him. With all the blood, the cuts, the wood slightly jarred into his side, he'd never looked more beautiful.

“I can't.” Ian whispered in defeat.

Mickey's eyes widened, hand still firm. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“I said I can't,” Ian's arm dropped, the gun in his hold dangling in his fingers grip.

The brunette grits his teeth, sharply inhaling, pressing his gun further into Ian's chest. “Fucking come on.” He yells, eyes slightly glazed. “Come on!”

Ian shakes his head, tone soft. “You want it, it's all yours.” He licks his lips a little, pleading to Mickey to see some sense in this whole thing. It was stupid. This wasn't them. “I can't shoot you, I can't do it, Mickey.”

Mickey's arms start to shake, and he tries to bite down his quivering lip. This was Ian. His Ian. The man he had told himself many times not to fall for, but he did unintentionally. He sniffs up, scowling a little, as he saw the desperation fill in Ian's eyes.

Impatiently, Ian shoves Mickey's gun out of his hands, and lunged at him, attacking him with his lips. Mickey gasped sharply, stumbling back and slamming his back against the table behind them. He groaned in a wince before pulling Ian closer to his chest.

Mickey's arms looped around his shoulders, pushing Ian back and slamming him into the mirror. The glass shattered behind Ian, causing him to moan out loudly, Mickey smirks, hooking Ian's legs around his waist and pressing their mouths together roughly.

Ian grips to Mickey's shirt, ripping it off his torso and kicked him out into the hallway, before shoving him against the wall kissing a path of aggressive, lustful, kisses down the column of his neck. His hands work at his jeans, trying to get them unbuttoned. Mickey helps him out of his clothes too, shedding them messily, as they pushed and shoved at each-other into walls, and furniture.

Mickey whined, pressing against him as soon as they were both naked. Ian sighed, hauling Mickey's legs up again, wrapping them around his waist and moving them into the next room. He clears the counter top with one quick sweep, and roughly pushes Mickey onto the counter. Mickey squeaks, fingers clawing into Ian's back, possibly drawing blood, he presses their lips together again, moaning out at the luxurious taste that he missed so much.

Forcefully, Ian turns Mickey against the counter, kneeling down and skimming his rough, cut hands along the curve of Mickey's ass. He presses his tongue against Mickey's rim, holding him tightly with a hard hand against Mickey's hip.

“Fuck, Ian.” Mickey curses out, gripping to the counter tightly, toes curling as Ian teases his tongue against his hole, licking around but not yet pushing through. “Such a fucking tease.” He bites.

Ian snorts, as Mickey's hips rock forward against the counter. Ian digs his fingers into Mickey's thighs before slowly pressing his tongue inside. Mickey panted, gasping sharply and quickly, his forehead placed against the countertop of his hips jerked.

The redhead hums, looking up at the squirming body above him as he licked into Mickey greedily, his hand snaking around Mickey's waist to grip at his cock. Mickey puts his hand back, tugging at Ian's hair as the strokes matched Ian's tongue, hissing through his teeth as his moans grew louder.

“Just – fucking – get in me, Gallagher.” Mickey shot back, moan separating each word.

“You want me inside of you, Mick?” Ian teases, pinching at Mickey's ass before lightly blowing against his rim. Mickey squirmed against the counter, hands gripping back to find some ground, his moan echoed through the area, he hips rocking into Ian's palm.

Mickey swallows harshly, turning back to glare at Ian. “What the hell do you think?”

Ian just smirked, pulling out the drawers of the counter, not caring when they fall to the floor and the glass smashes from within them. He finally locates a tub of lube, slicking himself up fully, getting ready to pound into Mickey. “You want more prep?” He asks, just incase.

Mickey shakes his head, biting down against his lip. “Get the fuck on with it.”

“As you wish.” Ian chuckles at Mickey's urgency, turning him around against the edge of the counter, so he was sitting up against it again, legs wrapping around his waist and drawing him in closer.

Ian crushes their lips together, Mickey's nails digging into Ian's back as he slowly pushed into him, trying to adjust at first. They both groan out breathlessly, pausing for a moment before Ian started to thrust all in once. Mickey digs his heel into Ian's ass, biting down against his damp shoulder. Ian pulls Mickey's face to him, gripping his tightly, and licked into his mouth before he started to fuck into him roughly and recklessly, hard and tight.

Mickey clawed at his back, biting down at Ian's bottom lip, as Ian hammered into him, pressing him against the edge of the painful counter edge. “F-fuck!” Mickey yells out when Ian changes angle. But Ian can't keep it for long, it was a little difficult.

When Mickey got frustrated, his hot breath soaking Ian's shoulder, he pushes him back, wincing at the loss of contact in his ass and the empty feeling. Ian's eyes grow wide, breath hitched as he slammed backwards into the fridge. Mickey jumps from the counter, narrowing his eyes before he grabbed Ian and threw him down to the floor.

Ian landed with a groan, wincing as his bruised side hit against the hard ground. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when Mickey slid down to straddle him, guiding his cock back inside of him with a heaving sigh, his eyes closed, breath fluttering.

Mickey's head lolled forward, rolling his hips back and forth against Ian. Ian felt his eyes grow dark, fingers digging into Mickey's hips, holding on as Mickey continued to ride him incredulously, moaning out happily, a chuckle at his lips.

It was about time that Mickey's thighs stared to burn deliciously, as he rolled his hips harder against Ian's large, eager cock. Ian pressed against his prostate with every roll, pulling his legs up to apply for leverage. Ian canted his hips, feet pressed to the ground as he thrust up to meet Mickey's movements. Mickey laughed out, eyes finally opening, as he hands found Ian's chest, running smoothly up and down the abs and delicate toned skin.

“Like what you see, Gallagher?” Mickey teased, gasping.

Ian smirked. Was that even a question? He reaches over and pumps against Mickey's dick. “Always.”

Mickey laughed again, moaning out loudly as Ian's hand worked him effortlessly. He flipped them over against the floor, so once again he was on top, hovering over the flushed man he had fallen for. Mickey rolled his eyes as Ian hitched up his legs over his arms and hammered into him. He could feel the pit brewing in his stomach, he was so close, and he wanted nothing more than to see Mickey come completely undone beneath him.

Ian gave him every trick in his book, biting down at the crook of his neck that he knew made Mickey go crazy, hands skimming down his sides, making his squirm. Mickey writhed, eyes rolling to the back of his head at each thrust. Sooner than later, he came with a loud cry, spilling all over the gap between his and Ian's stomach. Ian reaches down and smooths out the sensitive skin, rubbing his thumb over the drenched slit.

Mickey narrowed his eyes, panting, as he clenching around Ian's cock as if he was born to it. He drags his nails down Ian's chest, grinning as Ian's back arched a little at the touch. Ian choked, crying out into Mickey's open mouth as he came a moment later, hips going erratic before slowling inside of Mickey, body shaking he held himself up over his husband.

Ian finally rolled over, groaning as he pulled out. Mickey's legs flopped to the ground, as they lay side by side against the wooden, cold floor, trying to grasp some sort of air. Mickey turns to look over at Ian, smile breached at his lips, tongue darting out in the corner.

When he does, Ian pulls his fist back, slamming it into his cheek.

Mickey reels back with a curse, holding a hand against his cheekbone, eyes wide. “What the fuck was that for?” He spits out a little blood next to him, Ian's giggling like an idiot.

“You ruined my fucking kitchen.” Ian glares, waving his hand around the room.

Mickey scoffs, rolling his eyes, turning over to straddle Ian's hips. “Your cooking was shit anyway.”

Ian cocks his head, offended, but before he could speak, Mickey's lips are on his.


End file.
